Survival of the fittest
by BarricadeBoy221B
Summary: When a frightening new virus sweeps New York in a matter of weeks, order quickly dissolves into panic. But as people drop like flies and reanimate soon after, time is against Mike and Harvey as they come to terms with what is happening around them, and what they're forced to do when push comes to shove. Rated M for probable blood and gore. Light Marvey, more fluff than anything.
1. October

Like most things, it seemingly came from nowhere overnight. This new virus, whatever it was, at first presented itself with flu like symptoms, and it was assumed that it only affected the respiratory system. But within a matter of days, it became apparent that it wasn't just limited to the lungs. Using infected needles, a bad blood transfusion, leaving open wounds untreated. All these rapidly proved to be deadly. These new revelations came just that little bit too late, and as a result, the hospitals were the first to discover how out of its depth New York really was.

Initially, it just seemed like a tragic, citywide epidemic. The death toll was rising by the day, and soon the streets became close to empty. Then came the news that people in other countries were becoming infected with the same sickness. The articles in the paper and the news anchors tried to pass it off as something that they would get on top of, when in reality, the world seemed to be slowly falling to pieces around them.

As it stood, Pearson Hardman may as well have been on hiatus – Mike had received a call telling him not to bother coming in until everything had blown over, but judging by the news reports, he probably would have skipped town of his own accord anyway. Or at least, he would have if stepping outside was still a safe option. The streets were bumper to bumper with cars, horns blaring and people close to rioting. The view from his window provided him with front row seats to the unfolding panic, and all he could do was keep trying Harvey's mobile in the hope that the next time he did, the lines wouldn't be jammed. Mike had never bought into the whole 'worldwide pandemic end of the world' crap you read about online, but that was what this was starting to feel like; all they needed now was the virus to bring back the dead and the scene would be complete.

He was pulled rather violently from his thoughts and his cereal when someone suddenly banged on his door, nearly making him jump out of his skin.

"Mike, open the door" Recognizing the voice immediately, he approached a little less warily, pulling the chain latch away and letting Harvey in. Shutting the door behind him, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the younger man, taking him a little by surprise.

"I've been calling you – don't you ever pick up your phone?"

"The lines are jammed – I've been trying to get you too. What're you doing here?" Pulling away, Harvey gave him one of his looks – a look that said 'ask yourself that question and really think about why you bothered in the first place'.

"Alright, alright…but you shouldn't have come out here, you should've stayed home"

"Better yet, you should have taken my offer to stay at my place until everything settled. Anyone could get in here"

"Oh, and you live in Fort Knox?"

"Compared to this place? Yeah, I do. Now pack your stuff, if we leave now we should be able to get back without too much trouble." Mike wanted to protest, but thought better of it. Instead, he made his way into his bedroom, leaving Harvey to watch the scene from the safety of the window. Within fifteen minutes, Mike had a large rucksack thrown over his shoulder, full of only the essentials, plus some added bits and pieces. Harvey looked over at him, raising a brow at how little he had.

"What..?"

"That's it?"

"Well it's not like I'll be living at your place permanently. Besides, I roll my clothes." The brow stayed up.

"…It makes it easier to get more stuff in your bag"

"Whatever you say"

"It's a useful trick – did you never go camping?"

"Not lately – come on, Bear Grylls, the sooner we get back the better." Smirking at the nickname, Mike followed Harvey out of the door, though he did catch his hand as he finished locking up. Squeezing his fingers lightly, he added;

"Thanks for coming here"

"It's no problem. Thanks for not living on the top floor; the elevator's out of order."


	2. Road block

As it turned out, getting to Harvey's place 'without too much trouble' was harder than expected. It had seemed busy from Mike's window, but now that he was on street level it was ten times worse. Just trying to cross the street was a mission, and more than once the two nearly got separated from each other as groups of people made their way in the opposite direction. At one point, Mike got shunted to the side so hard he nearly fell against a stationary car –thanks to Harvey grabbing his arm he managed to regain his footing. After that, Harvey kept a secure grip around Mike's wrist as they weaved their way up the sidewalk and round corners, and he didn't let go until they were outside Harvey's apartment building.

"This is crazy…everything was so quiet a few days ago" Harvey didn't reply to the statement, instead just fished in his pockets for his keys. Letting Mike in ahead of him, he shot the street another cautious look, before following his partner inside, locking the door securely behind them.

Mike always loved being in Harvey's place. Everything was so clean and expensive; he was torn between touching everything like a child in a museum and not wanting to touch anything in case it broke. But soon enough he was at ease, bag dumped against the couch as he accompanied Harvey to the kitchen.

"You hungry?"

"Sure – wait, you cook?"

"You sound surprised"

"Because I am"

"This may come as a shock to you, but not everyone has the ability to live off of take out and kids cereal" Feigning offence, Mike brought his hands up as Harvey's lips spread into a smirk.

"Alright, Julia Child – I was just asking"

"Sure you were. And never call me that again"

"Yeah I'm sorry…I can't stop picturing you in an apron…" That got a chuckle out of the older lawyer as he went from cabinet to cupboard, bringing out specific utensils and pans, which were soon joined by various ingredients. Straightening up from where he'd been leaning against the wall, Mike joined Harvey's side, stealing a sugar snap pea from the growing pile of vegetables and popping it in his mouth.

"Are you planning on feeding me an entire garden, or…?"

"If you're going to be in here, stop complaining and help. Or better yet, sit down and watch."

"Define 'help'" As if Harvey's previous request hadn't been heard, Mike manoeuvred himself between his boss and the cutting board, and pushed his arms around his waist. Putting the knife on the counter top for a moment, Harvey just looked at Mike with a smile, challenging him to continue. He let him pull him close, and pepper his neck with kisses, but just when Mike thought he was going to get his way, Harvey gently pushed him away. This of course came with protest, but it was soon silenced with another sugar snap pea.

"Let me do this, and maybe I'll let you stay at the end of my bed tonight instead of the couch"

"The end? What am I, a dog? – You were going to make me sleep on the couch?"

"Maybe."

For the most part, dinner was a success. Mike decided to be 'helpful' more than once, but eventually they got around to eating. Mike had never pictured Harvey cooking for himself, let alone anyone else, but he was pretty good at it. Empty plates pushed to the side, the pair let themselves digest as they flicked through TV channels, though when a news station came up, an air of seriousness came over the both of them as they listened to the latest developments; the road blocks that had been bottle necking the city would only be increased, meaning it would be even harder to leave, and impossible to come back. Harvey felt the pressure from the hand that had been resting on his knee increase ever so slightly as footage of other parts of the city were shown – a shattered store window, people vomiting what looked like blood and violent fights. Anyone they showed up close looked sick, faces sullen and sweaty. Harvey cut the reporter off mid sentence, switching channels without warning.

"Wait – put it back on"

"Why?"

"We need to know what's going on-"

"No, we don't. We already know what's going on. All that'll do is scare monger and stir things up more."

"Yeah, but it'll also give us-" This time it was Mike that got interrupted by a gunshot ringing over the noise of the crowd, screams and shouting following closely behind. Looking from each other to the window, Mike was the first on his feet and at the window sill, trying to pinpoint what had happened. It was nearly out of sight, but Mike could see a man laying dead across the bonnet of a car, and he could guess that the older man doing his best to get away was the shooter.

"Oh my God…"

"If the next words out of your mouth are 'you have to go and help', I swear-"

"They weren't going to be…"

"Okay."

After a while, Harvey pulled Mike away from the window and shut the blinds, before taking his place on the couch back, where they stayed for the next few hours. At first they talked about what had just happened, about the possible reasons behind it…Mike seemed upset by it, but still insisted on thinking about it. Eventually Harvey all but commanded him to change the subject, and soon after took him into the bedroom where they talked a little more. It was around 2am when Mike finally stopped responding to Harvey's statements, his breathing slow and deep and eyes shut. Shifting himself a little closer to him, Harvey wasn't far behind him on the sleep front, one arm wrapped securely around his waist.

Unfortunately for Harvey, he didn't stay asleep for long. It wasn't even six o'clock before Mike was shaking shoulders firmly, eyes wide and alight with anxiety. He looked more than a little freaked out, and the first thing that came to mind was that he'd had a nightmare, or that he hadn't really been asleep at all.

"Listen." Harvey propped himself up on his elbow and did as he was told, eyes swimming with fatigue.

"I don't hear anything, Mike…"

"Exactly…" It took a second, but finally it clicked; Mike was right. Whereas they'd fallen asleep to the sounds of yelling and general crowd noise, there was nothing now apart from the low hum of car engines.

"Have you checked outside?"

"I was about to." Pushing himself across and out of the bed, Mike went to the window and parted the curtains, though when he didn't say anything straight off the bat, Harvey felt a drop of dread fall down his throat.

"What is it?" He asked, getting out of bed as well and stepping up behind Mike, the hand that was going to slide across his shoulder and down his arm freezing when he realized what had Mike so freaked out.

There were no sounds – no human sounds at least, because of the hundreds of civilians that had littered the streets mere hours ago, all that remained were their bodies. Fallen over cars, collapsed at steering wheels, curled on the sidewalk. Every single one.


	3. Overnight

The pressures of the job meant that you had to be able to keep your head in stressful situations, handle pressure well. Perform at your best despite tight deadlines and less than desirable circumstance. But as they both stared out at the street, carpeted with the hundreds of bodies of the dead, even Harvey was struggling to wrap his head around the situation. Even in the dim light he could see how pale Mike looked, expression completely awash with a quiet distress. Harvey tried to pry him away from the window, one hand on either shoulder, but Mike pulled back as though he'd miss something if he left too soon.

"How did this happen…"

"I don't know."

"What should we do? We can't stay here, we can't just-"

"I don't know, Mike. Come back to bed-"

"They're _dead, _Harvey!" He snapped back, pushing himself away from the view and from his partner. Scrubbing blunt nails through his hair, one hand came down across his face to rub away some imaginary substance from his eyes, before it came to pause over his mouth. Eventually he looked back at Harvey, maybe for answers. Harvey just stood in place, watching him.

"…How are they all dead – that doesn't make sense, I mean they said it was bad, but not like…that" Motioning back toward the window, he slowly lowered himself back onto the bed, rubbing the nape of his neck. Joining him shortly after, Harvey touched his shoulder.

"There's nothing we can do right now. Get some more sleep, and-"

"You're really gonna be able to sleep? After seeing that? After finding out that this thing-"

"Probably not. If you don't want to, that's fine. I'll stay up with you. I'm just saying that we won't be able to do anything until later, and sitting here biting our nails and scaring ourselves won't help anyone out there or anywhere else." He knew Harvey was right, and as much as he wanted to be angry with him for being so calm, Mike had to suck it up and realize that panicking would do nothing. Leaning in toward him, he let Harvey put his arm around his shoulders as he leant into the crook of his neck. Pressing a small kiss into his hair, Harvey tried to offer some comfort, his voice not much more than a loud whisper.

"…We're gonna be fine, Mike."

"You don't know that" He replied just as quietly.

"No, but this is just another gun. We still have options"

"This isn't the same as a legal case – this is a matter of us getting out of here or rotting-"

"That won't happen." Pulling away, Mike shifted round to face Harvey properly.

"You don't know that – Look, I'm not going out of my to be pessimistic"

"Really? Because it kinda seems like you are"

"Look outside, Harvey! Can you blame me? Neither of us are sick – yet – but even if we get out of the city, where will we go? What will we do? Just sit around and wait for things to go back to normal?"

"I'm taking this one step at a time – jumping to the worst conclusion won't help anything, and while you're with me nothing's going to happen to you. You're not gonna get sick, and neither am I. We're going to get out of New York, find out where the safest place to go is, and go there. Is there any part of that you have a problem with..? Because now is the time to say so."

For the following 4 hours, they managed to get some more sleep, albeit shallow and restless. Though this time it was Harvey who woke up first. Mike was completely out of it – when he got up to take a shower there was only a minimal reaction, Mikes hand stiffly moving to the warmth of where Harvey had just been laying. When he returned to the room ten minutes later, Mike was face down on the mattress, head barely on the pillow and duvet tangled around bare limbs as if stopping it from disappearing. Smirking to himself, Harvey dressed quickly, opting for a more comfortable look as he began packing. His bag was marginally bigger than Mikes – mostly in that it wasn't a backpack, but a small suitcase – but he wasn't planning on bringing the bare minimum. He didn't know how long they'd be away from New York, even if they managed to leave. With the roads completely blocked off, they'd be doing a lot of their travelling on foot, or at least until they found some official help. He hadn't planned anything past that, but he knew he would. It was just how he worked. Zipping the case shut, he pulled it off the chair and left it by the door, this time disturbing Mike just a little.

"…Hey…"

"Hey – how're you feeling?"

"Better than last night…we got time to eat?"

"Sure. Feel free to use the shower – I'll see you in the other room" With a sleepy nod, Mike slowly but surely rolled himself out of bed and trudged into the bathroom. While he got ready, Harvey headed into the kitchen and made them both something for breakfast; so far, the morning was so painfully normal, he had almost forgotten to check the view of the street. When Mike came in and joined him, they talked a little while they ate, coffee a welcome sight to tired minds. It wasn't until Harvey approached the window to open the blinds that his expression slowly fell.

"Mike…" Looking up from the dishwasher, he frowned in concern.

"What..?" When Harvey looked back at him, the look that had come over him was enough to get Mike to his side in a second.

"What is- the…hell…"

They were looking at a street full of cars – some with engines still running, some now with dead batteries. Blood had dried in pools on the sidewalk and over the sides of car doors, but the sources had gone. As it stood, the only body that remained where it had been the night before was that of the gunshot victim.

All the others were gone.


	4. Gut instinct

After that, leaving the city became top priority – on foot or otherwise. They headed downstairs quickly, shielding their eyes from the sun as they stepped outside. It was still unnaturally quiet, and as they began on their way, Mike found himself inspecting cars as they passed by, and sparing the dead man a few feet away a glance. There was blood – and a lot of it, the seats and steering wheels and dashboards of each vehicle coated in a thick layer of the stuff. When he slowed down to really take it all in, Harvey stopped as well, stepping over to him and touching his arm.

"It's so quiet…"

"I noticed…come on, we should keep going." With a nod, Mike hesitantly followed after his companion, thought it was only another block later before he was stopping again.

"Mike-"

"Sshh…listen" Harvey just subtly rolled his eyes – they hadn't heard anything other than their own conversation since leaving his place. But then, there it was. It was quiet at first, distant – enough to make it impressive Mike had heard it at all – but unmistakably human. A distressed wailing sound was coming from somewhere in the traffic jam, and with a confirmation glance shot at Harvey, Mike dropped his backpack at his feet, and went to start weaving his way into the river of metal and rubber.

"Wait, Mike- "Of course, at the last second Harvey grabbed his elbow, tugging him back with a jolt. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I'm going to see what's making that noise"

"Right, and in the meantime probably infect yourself with whatever the hell this is. No way."

"Harvey, it's a baby - It needs my help. Look, I'll be fine minutes, max – I'll be fine, alright?" Seeing that he wasn't going to win, Harvey released Mikes arm, and just stood and watched as he resumed his quest to find the child. As he worked his way between each car, following the sound as best he could, eventually Mike started came close. By now he'd managed to put quite a bit of distance between him and Harvey, who was watching him like a hawk watches its young try hunting for the first time. He wasn't sure why he was so worried; of course, the absence of hundreds of dead bodies was more than unnerving, but as it stood they couldn't have been more alone if they'd tried. Other than Mike's mystery child, they hadn't seen anyone since they started walking. But something in his gut told him they shouldn't be there, that they should have stayed in bed and slept the oncoming nightmare away.

"Come on, Mike…" Harvey muttered to himself, though he was sure that even if he'd yelled it Mike probably would have ignored him. He was still looking through car windows until he found the right one at long last; a silver Volvo, the two front doors open with dried blood oozed down to the handle. Sure enough, in the back seat was an infant, strapped into its safety seat and crying. It didn't seem to notice Mike at first, at least, until he addressed it with a smile.

"Hey there – it's okay, I'm gonna get you out" had Mike been paying attention instead of trying to manoeuvre himself into the front seat without kneeling in dark, thick liquid, he would have gotten the hell out of the car and run back to Harvey. Because now that the baby had its focus on this new person, its cries suddenly became almost unbearably loud. Mike wasn't very experienced with children, but when he looked up and went to reach for the kid, and saw how much blood it was covered in – well, to say he hesitated would have been an understatement. The baby hadn't noticed him at first due to its eyes being blotted with congealing blood, fresher stuff flowing thickly from both nostrils. Now, it was the child straining for Mike, it's little hands that were once adorable were now tiny weapons as it flailed it's arms in an attempt to break out of its seatbelt. Mike didn't react at first, just stared in both horror and shock. He only scrambled back out of the car when the kid violently vomited – again, more blood, so thick it looked black.

Needless to say, when Harvey looked up and saw Mike hurrying back, a prick of fear stabbed at the pit of his stomach. Once he was within hearing distance, Harvey called over to him.

"What? What's wrong?" All but throwing himself across the last car, Mike barely stopped for breath before grabbing up his bag with one hand, and Harvey's wrist by the other.

"We've gotta go – now, the kid-"

"The kid was what? Slow down, come on – breathe, take a breath. What happened?" Pulling him to a stop, Harvey looked at Mike in concern as he tried to catch his breath.

"It was sick…but really, really sick, like…there was blood _everywhere, _a-and the kid, there was blood on its face – it was crying it, puking it…" Leaning down, Mike rested his palms on his knees as Harvey mulled over what he'd just been told.

"…Did you see anyone else out there?" Mike just shook his head.

"What do we do?"

"What..?"

"The baby…we can't just leave it here" Harvey rubbed a hand through his hair in thought, though his answer didn't take a lot of consideration.

"And we can't bring it with us"

"We could find somewhere to leave it – somewhere more secure, more-"

"Mike, I know what you're getting at, but we can't. Neither of us know the first thing about babies, let alone ones that are as ill as you say. Besides; you know how easily this is spread. I'm not risking both our lives". Again, Mike knew he was right. But it took a lot for him to nod in agreement and go against every fibre of him telling him to help the child.

Once they'd agreed, Harvey checked again that Mike was okay before they continued on their way, this time with Harvey's arm securely around Mike's shoulders.

"What do you think this is?"

"Something we weren't even close to being ready for"

"That's obvious, but…I mean, maybe they weren't dead." Harvey shot him a look.

"They looked pretty dead last night."

"We were looking down from a window – they could have just been passed out. I know how that sounds, but…"

"But it doesn't explain why they'd all be gone now. I'd suggest they got evacuated, but that doesn't explain why there was a kid here…If they were dead it explains even less why they're not here now." This discussion spanned until the end of the street, where both men came to an abrupt halt at corner. Around half way down the sidewalk to their left was a large group of people; men and women, all down on all fours or crouching over something on the ground, hidden from view. Moving his arm from Mike's shoulders, Harvey turned to him briefly, leaving his bag behind as he went about approaching the crowd.

"Stay here."


	5. Hold your breath

"Harvey, wait"

"What? They're the firs people we've seen"

"And you don't think it's a little weird that they're sitting in the middle of the street instead of…I don't know, in rescue trucks? Or with cops or something?"

"What're you suggesting?"

"That something's not right – we should leave them" This debate went on, back and forth, Mike insisting they move on and Harvey wanting more information. They were so busy arguing over each other that Mike almost didn't see that they'd been noticed. Two of the members had straightened up and were watching them both like a pack of predators watch a potential meal. Slowly, one of the women started towards the lawyers, her pace gradually picking up despite the size of her heels. It was around this point that Mike realized what she was covered in, as well as a small glimpse of what held their attention.

"Harvey…"

"Wha-"

"We have to go. Now." He didn't give him time question him – instead he just grabbed his hand and yanked him into the opposite direction, leaving their stuff in the road. Harvey wanted him to explain, but when he looked back and saw that the woman had been joined by several other members of the crowd, he didn't need any more incentive. Mike knew that you shouldn't look back when you're running from something, and once he had he wished he'd stopped himself. Whatever these things were, or whatever was wrong with these 'people', they weren't letting up – they were literally being chased down. About a block away Harvey saw they were approaching a store, its front window half smashed in; as it stood, it was better than nothing. Without warning, he pulled his hand from where it had been tangled with Mikes and wrapped it around his wrist, dragging him with him towards the window and all but pushing him towards it. Trying to be careful of the glass, Mike clambered through, and turned to help Harvey in before they bolted for the back of the shop, hoping to find a storeroom or upstairs level. They were in luck; a narrow stairwell led up to the first floor, which they barely cleared before their pursuers came crashing through the store front. Yanking Mike into the bathroom, Harvey closed the door behind them, making an effort to do so quietly, before picking up a small wooden chair, and lodging it under the handle and turning the lock for added measure.

As the following ten minutes passed, the two men just stayed silent, catching their breath with hands over mouths as the floor below them got torn up. Banging, crashing, inhuman cries and noises – all of it was totally unreal, like they'd just fallen into a video game and couldn't hit 'pause' to climb out again. All Mike and Harvey could do was look at each other with wide eyes, trying to work out what the hell was happening outside the door and how any of this had come about in the first place.

For a little while, the noise settled somewhat – so much so that Mike almost considered whispering something to his partner, until the creak of the stairs under footsteps made both their hearts jump into their throats. They were heavy, slow - probably those of a man, not that it would have mattered much. It didn't change the fact that he was wandering around outside the door with only a wall and a chair separating him from who he was searching for.

His shadow emerged under the door and the handle rattled, and it was no surprise when Mike felt Harvey's hand grip his shoulder that little bit tighter. Both wanted to know the other was there and really seeing this but neither could look away from the threshold that was keeping them safe and the intruders at bay. Every zombie movie cliché was being acted out – there was the cold sweat, the liquid fear thumping through their veins like cocaine, the having to keep their mouths covered for fear of breathing too loudly or making any kind of sound. Neither of them could remember being _this _scared – both had been terrified of losing something; Mike's job, Harvey's license, amongst other things – but this new kind of fear, the one you're never ready for and the one that makes you want to do anything to escape it, it made Mike want to throw up, and put Harvey's cool demeanour on the backburner in favour of just making sure he didn't do anything reckless to get them both out.

The stranger had long since left the bathroom alone in favour of exploring the other rooms, but it wasn't until they heard him go back downstairs that they let themselves relax. And even they neither made a noise until it had been silent for some time. His fingers now stiff from being clamped on Mike for so long, Harvey let up his grip, not that Mike seemed to notice. His eyes were still fixed on the gap under the door. When he did eventually speak, his voice was so quiet it could barely be considered a whisper.

"…What do we do…" When he didn't get an answer straight away, he finally tore his eyes from the door, and fixed instead on Harvey, who could only shrug back.

"I don't know…We should leave. Make sure they're gone, that it's safe to move again, and get the hell out of here." He sounded so sure of himself, but Mike could see that the usual Harvey Specter brick wall he built around himself had lost a brick or four. He'd never seen him like this – pressured, yes, stressed….but never 'scared'.

"…Okay…Alright. We'll do that. It's still early – we've got time." An easy phrase to use when time is in fact on your side; but whenever they thought it was safe enough to move, something would break or shift downstairs and knock them straight back to square one.

For the next 3 hours they waited before Harvey tried the door again, each tiny noise echoing off the bathroom tiles like a cymbal.


	6. Going pro

At first when the door opened, it seemed as though they'd be hiding from nothing. The silence was so intense that they could nearly hear each other's heartbeats, though neither dared stepping out straight away. Stepping up behind him, Mike touched his hand to Harvey's back.

"We should go…" With a nod of agreement, the two warily made their way out of the room, though they stayed upstairs for the time being, cautiously confirming the fact that they were alone. Each creak of the floorboards and squeak of a hinge made them both freeze like deer in the headlights, despite the emptiness of every room. The place was a mess, though Mike could imagine it wasn't nearly as bad as the downstairs floor. While Harvey looked in the room at the end of the corridor, Mike explored the one closest to the bathroom. It looked like it belonged to a teenage boy judging by the posters and general untidiness. In one corner sat a pair of amps, wires splayed out like tentacles, though he'd yet to see any instruments. What he did find however was far more useful.

When he caught up to Harvey he was looking a photo's on a bedside table. Generic family shot by the looks of it, not that he was given the chance to examine it. Gesturing to what Mike had in his hand, he gave him a curious frown.

"Planning on going pro?"

"I thought it could be useful…You know" Holding the baseball bat up, he made out like he was going to hit something. "…Self defence." Considering why they'd been trapped in a bathroom for the past three hours, Harvey said no more on it, giving Mike silent permission to keep his weapon of choice. With a little smirk of triumph he lowered it to his side, though it didn't last long when he went to look out of the window but was pulled back gently.

"I wouldn't if I were you."

"Why..?" As if he wasn't sure how to word it, the older lawyer just Mike 'the look' that more often than not said 'I won't stop you again, but you know you'll regret not listening to me'. Glancing to the window, and back to Harvey, Mike succumbed to the suddenly overwhelming curiosity that was gnawing at him, and took a few tentative steps towards the sill. The reaction was almost instantaneous – he recoiled as though someone had thrown a rock at the pane and just about missed. Harvey just pulled at his arm again, urging him to follow him – and this time there was next to no argument, only –

"You need something to defend yourself with"

"Know if there's any more sports equipment lying around?"

"Harvey" Stopping in his tracks, Mike tugged him round to face him. "I'm being serious-"

"So am I. But what are you expecting me to do, Mike? Just pick up a golf club and beat anyone we see unconscious?"

"If they chase us again, then yes!" Seeing they were close to butting horns again, Mike took a breath, and tried again. "I don't like the idea anymore than you do, but…I know what I saw, what you saw when you looked out that window. These 'people', they're sick-"

"Mike…"

"They were _eating someone, _Harvey. You saw it, and I so did I. They were doing the same thing when they first saw us." If thinking it was crazy, then saying it out loud sounded insane. It wasn't something either of them wanted to admit on simply because of how ludicrous it was. This wasn't some AMC special –this was their lives, not that that seemed to mean much now. A penny could have dropped in the quiet that had developed since Mike last spoke, though it was him that broke it once again as he reached up to scratch his head absently.

"If we got stuck somewhere, or if they went for you… I wouldn't hesitate. It's self defence, that's all it is. We wouldn't have to kill anyone, but if it's us or them until we get out of the city, I know I'm willing to commit grievous bodily harm to make sure we get out in one piece."

"How thoughtful…" Harvey replied dryly, though he had to admit to himself that what Mike was saying made sense.

"Fine. What do you suggest?"

"Why are you asking me? I'm not exactly the expert here"

"You know more about this kind of thing than me" Mike went to protest, but reconsidered. It was more than a little true, after all.

"I guess…you want something strong, but not too heavy. It's gotta be quiet, and you've gotta be able to carry it round without it tiring you out."

"Like a bat"

"Exactly like a bat. Though you might suit a golf club more…"

As it happened, Mike's attempt at a joke had wielded some kind of fruit – in the closet of the room they'd just come from was a tennis racket, which he took begrudgingly – Mike just found it funny. Harvey just pointed it at his associate mock-threateningly.

"Shut up."

"Sorry Louis – Oh, I mean…" He didn't need to finish his sentence for Harvey to roll his eyes, but he laughed a little all the same.

"I wonder how he's doing"

"You mean whether or not he got out?"

"Mmm…Donna did, and Jessica. Do you know if Rachel…?"

"Oh, she wasn't in the city when everything went...She wasn't here. Visiting a friend in Chicago I think."

"You think?"

"I wasn't really listening when she told me."

"That's good at least. Come on – we should leave. See if we can find anyone who isn't out to bite our throats out."

"Don't."

"What?" When Harvey looked round, Mike wasn't even looking at him. But his tone betrayed a kind of unease that isn't easily found.

"Joke about it. People are dying, I just..."

"Alright." As Mike straightened up from tying his shoelace and went to go downstairs, Harvey caught his wrist, moving past him quickly.

"Me first."


	7. It ain't like it was before

Mike's first thoughts had been right – the shop floor was a bombsite. Furniture had been over-turned; glass peppered the floor in layers like an avalanche of crystal, and the wares that had once been sold here were beyond recognition. Each step was like treading on piles of tiny bones, the crunches and snaps resonating throughout the room like twigs in a hunter's forest. As they stepped out into the light, at first it appeared as though they were alone outside as well.

But the tell tale sounds of the unfortunate civilian who had been turned into lunch being ripped into shreds around the corner told them to keep their guards up and their voices down. Gesturing in the opposite direction, the pair began their journey for a second time that day. Several times they had to quickly duck into alleyways or into any open places they could find – though not all the infected they came across seemed interested in them, some certainly were.

They were fast – enough to debunk any theories that the world had in fact fallen into a zombie apocalypse – but the eating people aspect balanced things out again just as quickly. It was another three days before the TV channels stopped broadcasting, but by then they had all the information they needed. The virus was highly contagious if transferred via saliva or blood, and less so if you were exposed to someone who was infected – like the common cold; stay around someone too long, it increased your chances of getting it, but if you got their blood into an open wound, in your eyes or mouth, or even kissed someone who had it, the prognosis was final.

It rapidly became clear that help was not going to be easy to find. The days crawled by one by one, and they'd still yet to find any kind of official back up. They came across a few others who didn't seem sick, but they weren't as happy to find Mike and Harvey as they were to see them. As it stood, they were very much alone for the time being. The number of infected just increased and increased, so much so that at one point they had to find shelter in a house while they waited for this new horde to disperse. Both breathing heavily and leaning against either side of the hallway, they just looked at each other as the banging on the door slowly deceased.

"We need a plan…"

"Think the TV still works? Or the radio at least?"

"More than likely- everything was fine when we left my place."

"Get out." Both turned, and were met with the sight of a gun in the hands of a young woman, pointed straight at them.

"I said get out. Move it." Putting his racket down Harvey tried reasoning with her – it was one of the many things he was good at, after all.

"Look, we don't want trouble – we just want to check what's going on, and then we'll-"

"I don't want trouble either, which if why you're gonna leave before your friend here loses a kneecap." Despite the fear evident in her tone, her aim was steady, and pointed directly at Mike's leg. This time it was Mike's turn to shoot Harvey a look.

"We're not going to hurt you-"

"I don't care – this is my house, I don't know you, get the hell out."

"We can't go back out there yet"

"And you won't bring what's out there in here."

"We locked the door-"

"I meant the virus, dumbfuck. They're saying it's contagious – now get out. I won't tell you again" Unfortunately, this was one situation where Harvey's inherent charm and people skills fell short. After seeing that she wasn't prepared to talk he just nodded, hands still up at waist height as he slowly stepped back towards Mike.

"Come on, we're leaving."

Just like that, they were back where they started - without shelter and with neon signs flashing above their heads reading 'Over here'. The sound of the door slamming behind them attracted the attention of a few infected, but they managed to out run them, finding shelter in a small corner café. Hurriedly sliding across the counter and crouching out of sight, Mike waited for Harvey to join him, trying to breathe through the stitch ripping through his side. But when the only sound during the next two minutes was his own breathing and his own heartbeat thudding in his ears, panic began to rise in his throat like bile. Harvey had been right behind him – he was sure of it.

His immediate reaction would have been to yell for his partner, find out what was happening or if he needed help. But sound travels fast in quiet places, and as it stood the city was the definition of the word. Scrambling over the counter again, he ran back outside, the late afternoon sun blinding him momentarily as he searched for Harvey. Each direction yielded nothing but the odd wandering infected, one by one becoming more intrigued with Mikes presence.

"_Harvey_" It wasn't any more than a stage whisper, but some more infected across the river of cars were now watching Mike with curious, predatory eyes. Bat in hand, he kept them in mind as he looked around again, heading in the direction they'd been running from. He'd just started thinking of where Harvey could have been forced to go, though it turned out he didn't have to for long – moments later and Harvey staggered out from a nearby doorway. Mike's blood froze under his skin when he saw the blood spattered across his shirt, but he didn't have time to ask about it; Harvey quickly caught up to Mike and pulled Mike back inside the café with an urgency that made it hard to keep Mikes worry under control.

Once the front doors had been secured as best as they could, Harvey motioned for him to follow him through to the back and Mike did it without question, waiting until another door had been locked to start firing questions at Harvey. Throwing his arms around him, he let himself register that Harvey was here and alive before basically forcing him to sit down in the first available chair.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I thought you were behind me – are you okay?"

"I'm fine-"

"Jesus Christ, that's a lot of blood…is it yours? Are you hurt? Did they-"

"Mike, calm down." Pulling Mike's hands from where they were trying to unbutton his shirt, Harvey rubbed small circles into his knuckles in reassurance.

"I'm sorry I worried you – I got cornered, and it took me a little longer to get out of it this time."

"I should have been with you"

"Mike, don't start. I mean it – I'm fine, it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. If you'd been there it would have just put you in danger."

"Either both of us are in danger or neither. Both or nothing – that's how it is with us" The troubled expression that seemed to have taken up permanent residence on Harvey's face only deepened.

"That's how it _was_."


	8. Sanctuary

For the first few weeks, supplies and shelter weren't too hard to find – there were several close encounters with infected that left them both rattled, but they got by on the assumption that help would arrive sooner or later. They had to be rescued; there was no way they'd just leave the cities unchecked for survivors. At first Mike had been hesitant to use that term – it almost sounded arrogant, but as the numbers of the sick only multiplied, it gradually became the only word that suited their situation. One day they attempted to head back to Harvey's apartment, but the closer they got the more precarious their predicament became. So, Mike's place became their plan B. It didn't get much better, but as night began to close in, beating one or two members of the infected public to get inside suddenly wasn't that much of a moral issue anymore. Fortunately, Mike's keys had been on him and not in the bag he'd been forced to leave behind, so there was no trouble with getting into the apartment once they'd cleared the stairs.

Just stepping back in was such a relief – everything here was familiar, safe – _his. _Locking up quickly, for a moment he just turned around and took everything in – his couch, his kitchen…it had only been about a month or so, but he had missed being on common ground. While Harvey peeled off his jacket and went to see what food was still edible, Mike made his way into the bathroom to test the water –lukewarm at best, but at least it was still running.

"Shower's working" He called through as he headed back into the other room, approaching Harvey as he closed one of the cabinets. Feeling Mike's arms getting pushed around his waist, he glanced over his shoulder with a smirk.

"You know, I never thought I'd hear myself say this, but I've never been happier to see so much processed food in one kitchen."

"Well, help yourself" He replied, pecking a kiss to the back of Harvey's neck before pulling away to shrug off his hoodie – which was now in dire need of either washing or burning.

"I think I have one of your suits here, so at least you have something else to wear until we can get back into your apartment." Narrowing his eyes, Harvey mulled that thought over.

"Which one?" Accompanied with a shrug, Mike answered a moment later. "I don't know…a black one I think?"

"Please, don't be any more specific for my sake"

"It's a suit – I don't make it a habit of keeping track of what you wear" Harvey pulled a disgruntled face, but said nothing more on it. Instead he just walked past Mike, catching his wrist loosely on the way.

"What..?"

"You said the shower's working, right?"

Despite the cold water, the pair stayed in the shower for a good forty minutes before finally having to get out. But just feeling the grease and oil and blood slipping away with the suds and foam felt refreshing. Filling his palm with shampoo, Mike had to nuzzle Harvey's head away from where he was peppering his throat with kisses just so he could take his turn to wash his hair for him. Naturally, he didn't make it an easy task – hands wandered and mouths locked - but eventually the water got switched off, and they back in the sitting room, Mike watching Harvey cook for him once again.

There had been a comfortable silence between them for a while now, until the sound of a door banging open echoed down the corridor, making them both turn towards the door like alerted guard dogs. The hour and a half had been relaxing – or as close as they could get nowadays – but now the all too familiar shiver of anxiety was back. Harvey motioned toward the light switch, not that Mike needed to be told. They'd discovered that the infected were very attracted to light, artificial or otherwise – it meant travelling by night was next to impossible, as flashlights may as well have been replaced with great burning torches.

It wasn't until the footsteps from the stairs started to get closer and louder that either of them reacted; Mike grabbed his bat away from the door, Harvey joining his side and urging him behind him as they listened in the dark. It sounded as though there were more than one set of footfalls, three or four was Harvey's best guess, but all they could do was wait for them to settle outside the door, the handle turning and twisting against the lock, the chain clinking against wood. Only this time, it didn't let up after a few attempts. At its worst the handle sounded as though it was about to the broken off, the awful banging reverberating throughout the space on both sides. It wasn't just Mike's place they were trying to get into – some of the other apartments were being subject to the same treatment; the noise alone was enough to put anyone edge. But, he could only swallow down the sick feeling at the back of his throat, glad when he felt Harvey's hand search for him and grip his arm. It was his way of saying he was there and that things would be alright, despite there being no way for him to know that for sure. While sickness was meant to cause its victim to deteriorate, this virus seemed to be doing the opposite. Now it was rare to find someone with it who wasn't just as fast as them, if not faster, or who wasn't eager to rip their heads off. They could hear the same as the healthy, see just as well…as far as 'zombie apocalypses' went, this one didn't offer much in the favour of its survivors.

After a horrifically long ten minutes, just like that the banging and the rattling all came to a halt, and the footsteps ran back the way they'd come just as fast as they'd arrived. The screeches that followed them were not those of any human Mike had heard before, and he knew no matter how accustomed they may come to this new world, he would never get used to it. It was an ugly, volatile sound that hurt the ears and set teeth on edge and hands shaking; designed to catch you off guard, scare you.

Quickly and quietly, Harvey grabbed his jacket and lay it across the bottom of the door, keeping any light from escaping as he switched it back on. It was only when Mike went to lean his bat against the wall behind him that he realized how tightly he'd been holding it, his knuckles and fingers sore and stiff from the pressure. Harvey stepped back over to him, pulling him into a hug when he saw how pale Mike had gone.

"You alright?"

"Yeah…yeah, fine"

"They won't come back – if we're careful they'll just assume the place is empty"

"I locked the door." Harvey pulled back with a nod.

"I know."

"The front doors" Mike replied quietly, matter-of-factly. "I locked them when we got here, double checked them…there's no way they could have gotten in by themselves…"


	9. Good enough

They waited till the morning to go downstairs and check the locks – as it turned out, the doors had been all but kicked in. However, on closer inspection it came to light that a person's boot couldn't have done that level of damage - heavy craters surrounded the lock, the handles hanging on for dear life. Of course, they couldn't stay down there for long, and soon enough they were locking themselves back into Mike's apartment with only more questions, and an ultimatum staring them down. Without a word, Harvey began to pace, leaving the talking to Mike for the time being.

"It's not safe here anymore…_how did they get in…_"

"I thought we established that someone went 'Terminator' on the front entrance."

"They're fast, Harvey, but that's it. Something heavy was used to bash the doors in- a hammer or something, I don't know. But I do know I haven't seen any of them dragging Mjolnir around since everything went to hell."

"Point taken." He perched on the arm of the couch, watching Mike as he took over pacing for a bit.

"We'll just have to try another apartment building, or house – I'll start-"

"Hey, hang on a second" Stopping on command, Mike looked at Harvey patiently, waiting for the reason why he'd stalled him.

"We should stay here a little longer – just a day or two."

"Harvey, the doors-"

"I know, but we're both exhausted. We need to recharge, get another good nights sleep at least before we go out there again. And we need to plan just where we're going to go. There's no room for mistakes anymore, and I'm not prepared to let us make any"

"You never were anyway"

"Why start now?"

He made a valid argument, and Mike had to admit staying in his own home comforts for a little longer did sound appealing. He'd missed his bed, and as he moved back to Harvey's side, he was reminded that neither of them knew how long they'd be around anymore – in the city or alive. Just getting here had been dangerous, but now moving again set them straight back to square one. Going anywhere in daylight was basically impossible, as was travelling safely at night. It was like walking blindfolded on to a mine field.

Pulling back from a kiss, their foreheads pressed together and noses rubbed, both managing a small smile each.

"Two more days – we can secure the door for the time being, pack new bags, maybe relax a little..."

"Sounds like a plan."

The day of course passed by slowly – but they made it work. Small, menial things like cleaning the apartment became 'something to do' – the rest of their time was spent in the bedroom or on the couch, talking, making out…it was as though they were both bored teenage boys all over again, wiling away the hours until the other had to leave. The lack of TV sucked at first, but they soon forgot about it as they laughed over beer, sitting at either end of the couch with their feet on each other's laps. They talked about the job that had once consumed their lives, quizzed each other on the Law, about the people that they knew and loved who were hopefully safe and well. Then it got quiet between them; Harvey silently worried about Donna and Mike about Rachel – soon feet were nudging hips as a silent 'You alright?' and the other would nod and snap out of it and change the subject.

Naturally, the next day passed nearly twice as fast as they discussed and argued over where they were going to head next. Mike packed a bag for each of them, occasionally voicing an opinion on a location or suggesting one, but each one that was brought up somehow got debunked. Straightening up from Harvey's bag, Mike turned to him, palms up at his sides.

"What do you want me to say? All of my suggestions have been good ones-"

"Not good enough."

"Beggar's can't be choosers"

"They can be when one of them is me. Look, Mike – right now, my priority list looks like this" Holding his hands up as though demonstrating levels. His left came up in front of his chin as he explained himself.

"I'm here. You're here." His right hand hovered above the left by a good ten inches. Coming forward, Mike gently pushed Harvey's right hand down so that it was even with the left.

"This is better" He brought both hands back down to his lap.

"Not to me." It was odd, hearing Harvey say something like that; Mike knew he liked things to go his way, to win all the time. He had high standards and for a good reason, and by default raised the bar for everyone else. Then again, he didn't know what Harvey had been like in previous relationships; maybe he was like this with everyone he was involved with, putting them before himself so easily. He had done that with Mike before they'd gotten together, but he doubted he would have put his associate's life before his own. Maybe he didn't know Harvey as well as he thought; in this case, that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Even still, given their situation Mike didn't like the thought of Harvey pulling any kind of heroics.

"It's both of us or neither of us, not one or the other."

"This isn't up for discussion"

"Well I'm putting it out there – we're all each other has until we get out of here, and I don't wanna be constantly put first. I want us both to be safe; both or neither."

Harvey would agree, but they both knew he'd be lying through his teeth; he'd always put Mike first, and Mike would do the same for him. But Mike had to know that his opinion had been heard at the very least. The topic was left after that; they had other issues to worry about – they still didn't know where they'd be staying. Harvey's apartment was an obvious choice for security and supplies as well as comfort, but it was getting there that posed the problem. They could steal a car if the roads weren't completely clogged. Their only real option was to try and get there before sunset, but before it was completely dark; maybe find a halfway point to stay the night and travel the rest of the way the morning after. They'd need better weapons, and to pack only what was necessary.

So, with some kind of plan in mind, they packed as much food as possible along with spare clothes, though it was finding Harvey something to use to defend himself where the challenge really came. Neither wanted to consider killing anyone, but it wasn't looking as though they had much of a choice. Both would do it to protect the other and themselves, but that didn't make it any easier to think about. Searching the apartment eventually brought out the mix-match tool kit Mike owned, nearly all the bits borrowed-and-forgotten-about, though the only part of it that really suited the task at hand was the large, slightly rusty monkey wrench. It was pretty heavy, but it'd work as a temporary fix until they were safe again.

Entering the stairwell, the two men made their way out of the building, hearts beating so fast they both felt nauseous. But standing around scared would only turn them into dinner. Without a word, they headed off, white knuckle grips on their weapons on choice.


	10. Game over

Looking back, they'd been fucking naïve. They'd barely been outside more than ten minutes before feet were pounding against pavement in a bid to get away from the infected. Having bags only served to weigh them down, but they couldn't ditch them like they had the last. It wasn't long before the weapons they'd chosen for themselves came into use – as they were running Mike had made the mistake of looking back, and in that split second had caught his foot on something, sending him sprawling across the sidewalk with a yell.

The next minutes felt like they happened in a blur; Mike was stumbling to his feet just as fast as he'd fallen, trying to pick up his bat from where it'd come out of his hand. Harvey had back tracked and had grabbed the collar of Mike's shirt, trying to drag him up and keep him going. But by now any distance they'd put between the infected and themselves was null and void; within moments Mike was yanked backwards into the group and out of Harvey's grasp, his bag being grabbed at by desperate, sickly hands. Even if he'd managed if get himself out of the straps in time, there still wouldn't have been room to get himself away. In the seconds he couldn't spare he guessed there were at least a half dozen surrounding him, fingers tearing at his shirt and grabbing at his limbs. If he'd been alone, this would have been it.

Game over.

But then Harvey was beating them back, gripping Mike's wrist painfully hard as they set off again, though this time it wasn't for long – Harvey took them both through another set of doors, weaving between tables and another doorway before he finally let Mike go, at which point his legs practically turned to gelatine. There wasn't anything for him to hear at first – it was just blood pumping in his ears like war drums and ringing, white noise almost, the tight feeling in his chest refusing to let up. He felt cold, his stomach was in knots and when he lifted his hands he couldn't stop them shaking to rest his head in his palms.

Then Harvey was there in front of him, kneeling down and taking his hands away from his face and saying something that Mike couldn't pick up straight away. He felt his face being tilted up, Harvey's hands on either side of his head repeating what sounded like his name over and over. Gradually he began to calm down, though having Harvey pull their heads together and rub his fingertips therapeutically into his hair helped considerably. He found that he'd been grasping at Harvey's sleeves as if he was ensuring he'd still be there when he opened his eyes again, though he would have been hard pressed to really see anything through the sting of hot tears that were dripping to the floor. When was the last time he cried…when his grandmother had passed away?

Slowly but surely, his breathing regulated enough for him to speak properly, though his eyes remained clamped shut for the time being.

"Are you okay…"

"Don't even think about worrying about me right now. That's an order – come on, give me your arm"

"No, I have to know"

"Mike, I'm fine." Finally accepting his answer, Mike gingerly rested his head back against the surface behind him as Harvey got up to do something. He was finding a first aid kit – something easily found in a restaurant kitchen. Turning Mike's arm over, he first examined the scratches that ran the full length of his forearm – when he'd first seen them he'd felt like throwing up, like his lungs had filled with cement. Because in every zombie story, a scratch means you turn. You die and become undead and the left behind loved one is forced to die alongside them or save themselves. There was also a large graze splayed across his right arm where he'd fallen and slid across rough concrete, the skin raised and red and sore.

"…I always thought I'd last longer"

"What?"

"People make plans for this kinda thing…'what's your plan for the zombie apocalypse'…I always figured you'd be involved somehow, but…it hasn't even been two months and I'm already screwed"

"No, you're not" When Harvey glanced up, Mike's eyes were open, looking anywhere that wasn't at his arm as he tried to stop himself from crying any more.

"You're not." Harvey repeated, keeping his cool as best he could as he began to clean the wounds with antiseptic. Mike immediately tried pulling his arm away, the usual hiss of pain coming out as more of a whimper as Harvey brought it back gently.

"They said it was spread through blood and saliva – Mike, listen – these aren't deep, they didn't say anything about getting scratched. You're going to be fine"

"What if-"

"No, no 'what if's'. You're going to be alright. Look at me." A request Harvey almost wished he hadn't made when he fully took in his partners expression.

"Do you trust me?" Mike just replied with a feeble nod. Clasping his hand, Harvey made him look at him again as he continued.

"I screwed up…I let you get hurt. But you're gonna be fine, I promise. They barely broke the skin; the risk of you catching it is minimal at most."

"There's still a chance" Instead of answering him, Harvey just continued cleaning up his injuries, dressing both arms carefully. Just as he finished, a quiet, hoarse voice broke the silence.

"I'm sorry"

"What..?"

"…I'm sorry – for tripping, for…this, I'm sorry" He repeated, motioning vaguely to his arm as a small sob escaped his throat. Stopping himself from getting upset suddenly became one hundred times harder – he'd seen him angry, confused, frustrated, and laughing until air became optional. But in all the time Mike had worked for him, Harvey had never seen him cry. Not like this. When he tried to reach out to him Mike pushed his hands away roughly.

"No, just -This wasn't how this was supposed to happen, this wasn't how any of this was meant to – this doesn't _happen _in real life, this is such _bullshit. _Fucking…'zombie viruses' don't _exist_, we don't let them, we stop them before the entire world goes to hell! But now look, look at everything…" He'd started shouting early on, but as his sentence trailed his tone fell into a angry, scared whisper. Pushing his hands through his hair, he kept his head down, half hidden behind his arms as he brought them up to rest on his knees.

"…This is on me, what happens now…I've been a pain in the ass for you for so long now, I kinda forgot how fucking shitty it can make me feel when I screw things up for you…This is the worst, so far…I've screwed up cases in the past, but _this…"_ Harvey could only shift round to Mike's side, and pull him into his arms, just holding him for a while. He wasn't sobbing his heart out, but he was still crying, evident through the tremors that shook him every few seconds. When Harvey felt like he could speak without losing it, he did so gently, is tone heavy with sincerity.

"I knew you'd be a pain in the ass when I hired you. But you're so much more than the mistakes you've made. And this one isn't on you. It's on me. I said I'd protect you and I haven't. You've always been my responsibility and I've let you down…don't apologize to me, Mike. For anything. Especially not this."

"You're so full of it…"

"So I've been told" Relief forced a smile across his face when he heard Mike laugh a little. His grip around him tightening just a little, Harvey rested his face on Mike's head, taking in the smell of his hair and how he seemed to fit perfectly into the crook of his body.

"You're going to be okay, Mike. I'll make sure of it."


	11. Domestic bliss

They managed the rest of the journey in much the same way – they ran, they hid, they waited. Ran a little further, and finally, infected biting at their heels they turned the corner which led to Harvey's apartment. Making sure the front door was locked Harvey turned his back on the fevered creatures on the other side of it trying to knock it down, urging Mike up the flight of stairs ahead of them. They were both out of breath, but neither wanted to stop until there was another set of walls between them and the outside.

Mike had only been to Harvey's place a few times, but the novelty never wore off. The place was huge, in comparison to his flat anyway. It was almost like a hotel; everything radiated class and style, just like the man who lived there. But after all the risks they'd taken to get here, the place was more of a sanctuary than anything else. Slowly, his pulse came down to a normal pace. For the second – and last - time this week, they were safe. Pushing away from the wall, Mike kicked his bag to the side, and headed further inside after Harvey. Sliding onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar, Mike folded his arms, resting his head gently on the back of his hands.

"How're you feeling?" After a beat his lifted his face back up, chin remaining on his hands. Harvey was leaning the countertop opposite, watching him.

"You mean, am I feeling confused, disorientated, sick, faint or-"

"I mean, how are you feeling."

"…Arm hurts a little, but…fine. I feel fine."

That was all that was said on the matter for now. Harvey kept a close eye on Mike, but as the afternoon unravelled into evening and Mike continued to show no symptoms, both men found it progressively easier to unwind. Since he lived on a much higher floor than Mike, it also meant that the inhuman screeches from the infected crawling the streets were all but impossible to hear. And as the next few days went by without a problem, other than the vague cabin fever, the mood in the apartment continued to get lighter. They had to go easy on the food supply, but they had enough to last a little while longer. November rolled around and the air got colder, but they were safe. Bringing blankets to the couch was a small price to pay for that.

When Mike woke up one morning and there was just warm covers and Harvey breathing deeply behind him, for the first time in a while he just felt like going back to sleep for an hour or two. He didn't feel like he had to get up and check the door or the street or listen for movement in the rooms around them. There was just this. Turning over, bare limbs tangled as Mike tried and failed to pull more blanket over from Harvey's side of the bed. Without opening his eyes Harvey found the hand that was attempting to steal his duvet, and eventually spoke up, voice groggy with sleep.

"Don't even try it…"

"Then give me my share back"

"I'll give it back when you go back to sleep"

"I am asleep, and cold" He caved soon after. Less than a minute later and the duvet was drawn over their heads in a half hearted attempt at a blanket-tent, both a little more awake and very much warmer. But the smiles and teasing came to a pause when Harvey propped himself up on his side and pulled Mike closer, leaning in to kiss him and having him move away at the last second.

"What? I can't kiss you now?"

"It's not that"

"Then what..?"

"You know how this thing spreads – I just wanna be careful"

"It's almost adorable how you think you're the only one that remembers this stuff." He matched Mike's look without blinking.

"Mike, it's been over a week since you got scratched – you've shown no symptoms, and we both know that if you had it, that would have happened days ago."

"I know, but-"

"No buts. You're healthy, you're fine. Now shut up and kiss me." He leant in again, this time without protestation. For the next short while, the only noises coming from Mike were muffled sounds of pleasure, his hands exploring the contours of his partner's shoulders and back, and Harvey's wandering wherever they saw fit. Tilting his head back, he was enjoying the trail of kisses being marked into his throat when he suddenly tensed, eyes opening as he moved to sit up. When Harvey went to playfully push him back down, he stopped him.

"What's wrong?"

"Sshh…Listen"

"Mike, there's nothing to listen to."

"No. No, I heard something…Let me up" Doing as he was told, Harvey rolled off of him, Letting Mike climb out of the bed. He couldn't hear anything, but Mike already had his jeans on by the time he looked back.

"What do you think you heard?"

"I don't 'think' I heard anything. I know I did" And with that, Mike was gone. Groaning to himself, after a moment Harvey swung his legs off the edge of the bed and rubbed a palm over his eyes. Apparently, Mike hadn't fully shaken off the paranoia that had stuck to them since the start – and maybe he was right in that sense. It was dangerous to be cocky now, as tempting as a few good locks made it. He got up to go to the bathroom, though he wasn't out ten seconds before Mike returned.

"Get dressed"

"I was about to"

"Harvey" The mention of his name made him look up again; the sense of urgency in Mikes tone and on his face told him it was time to take it down a notch.

"There're people in the building"

"Infected..?"

"No – actual people. They're on the floor below us, I heard them talking, moving around." He was nervous, understandably. So far every survivor they'd come across had been hostile – scared, but hostile. But this time around Harvey had the feeling these weren't frightened home owners. Giving Mike's shoulder a squeeze, he tried to offer reassurance.

"Okay. It's alright – we'll just lay low, wait for them to move on." He opened his mouth to speak, but ended up only nodding in reply. For all they knew they were still perfectly safe, that they had nothing to worry about.

About half an hour later, and bullets were ripping holes in the door as though it was made of paper.


	12. The company we keep

"Jesus fucking Christ man…"

"What?"

"Do us all a favour and put the Goddamn safety on for two freakin' seconds. We're low on ammo as it is"

"I didn't see any of you stepping up to kick it down"

"Whatever…let's just get on with it" Rolling his eyes, the tallest of the four men gave his brother a playful shove before heading further into the apartment. Clicking his fingers, he motioned for one of them to check the cupboards for food and the other to stay at the door while he and his sibling checked for other supplies.

"It's a nice place – should consider relocating"

"You're kidding, right? You know who lives in a building like this? Rich douche-bags with more money than sense and I bet you anything your girl would agree with me."

"I don't know...she's a pretty classy girl."

"How do you figure that? She's dating you, right?"

"Fuck you." Sniggering at his own joke, he stepped through into the bedroom, gun in hand. Whoever had lived here was probably long gone by now, or dead. But the drawers still packed with clothing made him more partial to believe the latter theory. One by one they were emptied, the bedside tables rifled through for money or anything of value. Though they may not have been of any use now, he was still a materialistic man – and the watch that he'd just found sated that magpie habit nicely. Slipping it onto his wrist and fastening it, he shook his sleeve back down and continued the search, checking under the bed, and finally going for the closet. Mike could only hold his breath and pray that he went unnoticed as the intruder's footsteps came closer and closer to his hiding place. The doors weren't open ten centimetres before the man's name was called out from the other room.

"Get in here – we found someone" And just like that, Mike was off the hook for the time being – but as a result, Harvey wasn't. Every inch of him wanted to jump out and help him, but there wasn't just one gun in the room – there were four. And that meant now wasn't the time to be reckless.

Back in the living room, and Harvey was on his knees, hands clasped to the back of his head. The younger brother had his hand gun pointed at his back, giving his sibling a nod.

"Found him in the other room."

"I guessed. This your place?" Harvey stayed quiet, not breaking eye contact. Sitting himself onto one of the kitchen stools, he just looked at the lawyer for a minute, half-expecting an answer and half-weighing up how much of a threat he was.

"I'm gonna assume, looking at how you're dressed that the answer's yes. In which case, here's my next question – you can talk, by the way - You got anyone else here?" After a long, quiet pause. "I'll be wanting an answer to that one. We're not looking to hurt you, if you cooperate. So. Whenever you're ready"

"No." His eyes narrowed, and after a moment, a reptilian smirk played across his lips.

"Good to know. Now, here's what's going to happen – my two friends here are going to look through the rest of the apartment, take anything useful…" gesturing toward the bedroom, he waited for the men to pass between Harvey and him before continuing.

"…and hopefully we don't have to kill you. Because I wasn't lying before; we really are low on ammo, and let's be frank – wasting bullets on random people is just moronic. Then again…you don't look like the survival type. Maybe it'd be a kindness to put you outta your misery now, save you the trouble of figuring out what to do once we've gone with your supplies." At that second, Harvey's stare was broken by the men returning to the room, hauling Mike with them by his collar. Throwing him to the ground, he was hoisted back up to his knees a moment later, instructed to put his hands behind his head. The leader of the group shook his head slowly, and pushed up to his feet.

"Now, this one on the other hand – I'm betting he'd be pretty good at keeping himself alive, for a while at least." Once he was in front of Harvey again, in one fluid movement his hand came up and brought his gun down against his hostages head. Blood trickled in streams down the side of his face as Harvey was pulled back up, the man's expression now dropped entirely as he crouched down in front of him.

"I may not be wearing a designer suit, but that doesn't make me an idiot. I can assure you it would have been easier on the both of you if you'd told the truth. Then again" He straightened back up as he turned his attention to Mike. "You don't get this rich without making lying second nature, am I wrong?" Stepping over to him, he nudged the blonde with the butt of his gun, and waited for Mike to look at him before speaking again.

"What's your name?"

"Mike."

"And you?" He was addressing Harvey, but didn't bother to look at him. When only silence followed, he rolled his eyes and sighed, but still kept his eyes trained on the younger hostage.

"Your friend's got some issues with talking straight, hasn't he? Come on then, young Mike – what's his name?"

"…Harvey"

"Lousy name, but what can you do. Now then, you seem like a much easier person to talk to, so that's what I'm going to do – we've got this covered here – start packing up any food and medical shit you find, yeah? – anyway, listen up. I don't wanna hurt either of you, so you can stop looking so worried. But, unfortunately for you, we are gonna strip you of all your stuff. Well, useful stuff anyway – I bet half of this shit is worth more than my apartment…I digress. Stay quiet, stay still, and don't try anything, and nothing will happen. Do we understand each other?" His heart racing, Mike nodded dumbly, and choked out an answer.

"Yeah…yeah, I get it"

"Good. That makes me happy, because I've gotta be honest – this killing and pillaging shit? It's exhausting enough without jackasses trying to play the hero. A man's gotta look after his own, right? I don't see how that makes me the bad guy here. Do you?" An expectant eyebrow raise prompted Mike to actually answer him.

"What you're doing, I get it – I know why you're here. But you're taking everything we need-"

"Ah, true, true. But you see, as nice as you seem Mike, I don't know you. And I don't know your buddy here either. And to be frank, I'd rather it was you two dying of starvation than me and my family, you know what I'm saying?"

"There're keys, in the backpack in the other room. They're for my apartment – take them, take anything you want from there. There's food, there's-" the boot that lodged itself violently into his chest cut him off, sending him sprawling back across the floor. Another few kicks to the belly later, and Mike was too busy trying to breathe through the pain in his ribs to piss off his assailant anymore.

"I don't believe your little story and I'm not gonna bother telling you why, because you already know you're a fucking liar. That's the second lie I've been told in less than twenty minutes…man…people suck, don't they?" Imbedding his fingers in Mike's hair, he forced him up from the floor without much thought towards the pain he was in.

"Leave him alone" And just like that, he was dropped again as the man stepped back in front of Harvey, his brother just having the time of his life watching the episode unfold.

"He speaks, at last! Wanna try that again?" And Harvey did just that, without a seconds hesitation.

"I said, leave him alone. Take whatever you want, and get the hell out."

"That's good of you. And you're not gonna stop me?"

"No."

"I'm glad, Harvey, really. That makes me very happy."

"Marcus, we've got everything – we should go, man."

"Yes. Yes, we should. Thank you, gentlemen. You've been very gracious hosts." Twirling his gun around in his hand, Marcus took the backpack – Mike's backpack – that was being handed to him, and followed the others towards the door. Immediately Harvey went to check if Mike was alright, but before he could even ask, the voices of the men quickly returned.

"Get back in, come on, go go go-"

"How the fuck did they get in so fuckin' fast? You said you made sure the doors were secure, Seb-"

"Because they fucking were – I don't know how they followed us"

"It doesn't matter. Make sure this door is." Harvey watched as the four of them filed back in, making sure to sit with Mike this time around, putting himself between him and the other men. With a melodramatic sigh, Marcus shrugged the bag off of his shoulder, dumping it on the floor with a dull 'thud', before dropping onto the couch. Noticing the looks he was getting from the two lawyers, that snake-like smirk was back.

"Looks like we're stuck together a little while longer, boys. Now, now, I know what you're thinking – but, don't worry; we're gonna have a lot of fun." He pointedly shot a look at Mike.

"Trust me."


	13. Out of the frying pan

As far as their situation was concerned, it could have been worse. They had been restrained with duct tape around their wrists, but, while they weren't allowed to move off of the floor, they were allowed to talk to one another. The men helped themselves to their food and generally went through the apartment like chimps in an antique store; Harvey soon gave up trying to make them stop. There were a few instances when the infected in the floors below or above them started making noise, putting them all on edge. While Marcus found it a little easier to relax, Mike noticed his friends and his brother weren't so chill; they were jumpy, obviously anxious to leave and get back to their own security.

At one point that same, heart-in-your-mouth silence fell across the apartment as shadows gathered outside the door, trying the handle and scratching at the wood. At first it wasn't too bad, but as the hours crawled by and night fell, trying to persuade the men to kill the lights didn't go down well. They may as well have been a giant beacon for all infected in the area; 'Come to this building! Human tapas for all!'

Sitting back against the wall and shifting a little more towards Harvey, Mike glanced from Marcus to him, keeping his voice down.

"How's your head..?" The point where Harvey had been hit with the butt of the gun was now swollen and starting to bruise, dried blood caked down across his face. He didn't even blink as he answered.

"Don't worry about me. Worry about what we're going to do once they get through all our supplies…"

"I have been, trust me…how long do you think it'll be before they leave?"

"Not soon enough." Noticing the pained expression that came across his face when he moved, Harvey nudged Mike's elbow, gesturing to his ribs as best he could.

"Still hurting?"

"Yeah – feels like he punctured a lung…"

"Oh, trust me Mikey – you'd know if I had" Both looked up, but Marcus wasn't even turned towards them. He had his feet crossed on the table in front of him, casually flipping through pages of Harvey's case files, apparently not even reading their contents properly.

"Do you mind?" This time, he did look over, his face a picture of innocence as he pointed at the papers.

"Oh, these? No, not particularly."

"That wasn't a question."

"And that wasn't a serious answer. C'mon, Harv – loosen up." Harvey went to snap back, but Mike grabbed his arm, stopping him with a look.

"Don't – let it go."

"Try saying that when it's your stuff they're going through."

"I tried to send them to my place, remember? Look, we just need to wait for them to leave. This could be going a lot worse."

"You're optimistic if you think they'll leave us alone when this blows over" Harvey hissed back.

"Why wouldn't they? They were prepared to when they first tried to go. We just have to keep our heads down and try not to piss them off-"

"Come on, guys – take out the rods for five seconds." Chucking the file to the side, Marcus got to his feet and went over to their corner, crouching down a few feet in front of them.

"What're you guys muttering about over here? Come on, let's talk. Let's get to know each other." Smirking, he gestured between the two of them.

"You guys work together?" With a warning glance at Harvey, hesitantly Mike answered.

"…Yeah, we do"

"He your boss?"

"Yes."

"Thought so…so how come you're here? Shacking up with the boss-man during the zombie apocalypse. That's rough, bro."

"…I was just in the neighbourhood trying to leave, and things got bad. Harvey let me crash here"

"Go Boss-man. Although…when I was looking around earlier, I noticed something kinda weird. One bed, sure – but both sides were messed up. No blankets on the couch…you two ah, screwing or something?" He just met Harvey's look of contempt with one of childish teasing.

"You are, aren't you?" With a nod at Mike, "Hot for teacher, kid?"

"Shut it." Mike didn't bother reprimanding him for snapping this time.

"Hey hey, I'm not judging – I'm a modern guy. Just had me wondering why you're actin' like Mikey's guard dog. Makes sense now."

"It's none of your business – in fact, you've got no business being here at all." That dissolved the smile from Marcus' face pretty quickly. Standing up, he reached down and roughly pulled Harvey up with him.

"No business? How about you count yourself lucky we haven't made it our business to blow your damn heads off."

"Oh, we do, trust me – that doesn't change the fact you came waltzing in here and brought the horde with you." Slamming Harvey against the wall, Marcus leaned in close.

"Out of the two of you you're the one that's really starting to irk me. I got a mind to throw you out of here, get some of them off our backs."

"No!" Raising a hand in a gesture of surrender towards the gun pointed at him from across the room, Mike slowly got up from the floor.

"We're sorry, alright – he's sorry, we'll be quiet. He's just freaked out, we all are. No need to do anything stupid."

"It wouldn't be stupidity throwing him out there – it'd be saving me a goddamn migraine."

"Like I said –he's sorry. Just, let us-"

"To be honest, I don't see why I should let you do anything. I think I've been pretty fuckin' lenient with you two so far." Reaching behind him, his hand re-emerged a second later, his gun now pressed to Harvey's temple.

"The way I see it, the world would be better off without your bitching and complaining, regardless of whether or not it's gone to hell."

"No – no, please"

"Shut up"

"Come on, just, put it down" Without looking away from Harvey, Marcus narrowed his eyes briefly, and after a few moments too long, smiled again.

"…Sit down and shut up." Summoning one of his friends from the other room, Marcus released his grip on the older man.

"Watch him. If he moves, shoot him. You, take him out of here"

"What?"

"No, wait-" This time it was Mike's turn to be hauled up off the floor, away from Harvey – he didn't even get Mike's name out without the barrel of a gun being pushed in front of his face. Reigning himself back, Harvey took a breath.

"That won't work" Raising a brow, Marcus instructed the man forcing Mike toward the door to stop.

"You don't know where he's being taken."

"You threatened to throw me out there as bait – it's not rocket science working out you're doing that to him instead. Here's the thing though, it won't work. Not with him."

"Oh, now I can't wait to hear this…" Waving his hand for him to continue, Marcus watched as Harvey pitched his defence. Harvey didn't know if this would work. It was a risk; nothing new to him, but now it was between Mike living or being torn to shreds. He slipped into his game face easily, keeping his tone as even as possible.

"They're only attracted to people who haven't been infected yet – he has been. He's sick" The reaction was immediate; Marcus' men were up and alert, guns trained on Mike, the man who had him by the collar shoving him away as though he were red hot. All Mike could do was look from the weapons pointed at him, to Harvey – this wouldn't work – he obviously wasn't ill. But…this was Harvey. He had a plan, he had a reason. He had to go along with it.

"It's true – it's true, I am"

"For lawyers you're both fucking dense. He doesn't even look sick –"

"That's because he got infected not long before you guys came here – look at his arm, he was scratched." Rolling this new situation over in his mind, Marcus looked at Mike, back at Harvey, and back at Mike again.

"Let's see then." Clicking at the man nearest to Mike, he told him to hold him still as he approached.

"Which arm?"

"Left." The marks had healed almost completely, though they still stood out from the rest of his skin. Gripping his wrist, Marcus held the arm up for Mike to see as though it wasn't attached to him already.

"These aren't fresh"

"They wouldn't be – the virus, it ah – it speeds up healing in some people, helps...helps it work faster" This was going to hell very quickly…

"I call bullshit."

"Save your breath – listen to me, even if he was perfectly healthy, he wouldn't be able to run fast enough to lead them away. His ribs are badly bruised, he wouldn't get half a mile." It was obvious Harvey was grasping at straws, but by now his options had been whittled down to very few.

"Send me instead"

"Harvey!"

"_Send me – _I'm in better shape, I'm not hurt – I'd be able to lead them away, give you enough time to get out safely. You know it makes sense."

Somehow through some divine intervention, Marcus paused to mull over what had been said, and for a blissful moment, Harvey thought his plan had worked. But then everything crumbled when Marcus dropped Mikes arm with a sigh, and casually made his way back towards the couch, addressing his men as he went.

"We'll stay for now; bring the others here when it's safe." Taking a seat, he stretched his legs out, feet crossing on the coffee table as they had been before. With a flick of the wrist, he didn't even have to say it out loud.

'Get rid of them.'


	14. All or nothing

Being out of the apartment was bad enough, but Mike had been stupid to think that they'd just be dumped out of the door and left to their own devices. No, they were escorted out of the building, hands still bound in front of them and guns inches behind their heads. It was like walking the plank, and the front door was the mouth of the crocodile. They walked slowly, stalling for time before they were completely out in the open.

"Got a plan B..?"

"I'm working on it." The door was opened for them, they were shoved outside, and just like that, they were alone. The bite in the late evening wind caught them both off guard, neither dressed for the cold. There it was…that eerie quiet that no city should know. But it wasn't the deadly peace that had settled that had Harvey on edge. Dark was equally an advantage and disadvantage to them, but without a plan and now without weapons, their next step would be dangerous if they didn't play it right.

"Our best bet is breaking in somewhere – the longer we're out here the worse off we are."

"Got a place in mind?" Mike asked, mouth full of duct tape as he tried ripping it with his teeth.

"Anywhere close."

'Anywhere close' turned out to be some non-descript car with blacked out windows. The doors, like many of the vehicles, were unlocked. Closing the door as subtly as was possible, the pair had to stay down and stay quiet as a small group of infected passed by. The tinted glass helped in their anonymity, but it was still unnerving as hell being so close to one of them. Huddling in the backseat, Mike took the opportunity to start cutting through the binds on his wrists, using the car keys that had been abandoned in the ignition. Once he was free, he worked on freeing Harvey. Soon enough the last thread snapped. A mindful glance outside told Mike it was safe to talk, albeit quietly.

"I'm guessing this wasn't on the itinerary…"

"Not quite, no. Once they've moved on, we can make a run for one of these houses here" Pointing to the row of townhouses to his right, Harvey suddenly motioned for Mike to slouch down in his seat; one of the infected that taken a particular interest in the car next to them, peering through the windows like a tourist in a zoo. As predicted, his attention was soon turned to them, his face all but pressed against the glass.

As far as 'zombies' went, these were frightening in the sense that they weren't decomposing everywhere with flesh missing from their faces. They looked sick; blood crusted around dingy yellow eyes, skin sunken and almost wax like in appearance. In most cases, teeth were barely being held in by gums that the virus had eaten away at, more dried blood in streams from the corners of stained lips. It turned its head suddenly, and just as fast as it had appeared, it was running down the street, weaving between cars with cat like ease. A gun shot from a mile or so ahead was what had them suddenly off and running, making the next step of Harvey and Mike's plan far easier to execute. Without disturbance, they climbed out of the car and up the steps towards the closest front door. It needed to be kicked open – or at least, enough to break the lock and let them get inside. Although they were only five minutes from Harvey's apartment, emotionally it felt as though they'd travelled miles. With a joint effort and a bit of difficulty, they managed to push a table from the hallway against the door, and put the chain latch on as an added measure until they could find more furniture to pile up. With the entrance secure, they went about making the rounds, making sure that the house they'd chosen wasn't still being lived it. It was deserted, and soon they were both settled in the living room. The peace and quiet didn't last long though; Harvey had only just sat down when Mike was in front of him.

"What the hell was that"

"What was what?" Harvey replied as he pushed weary hands over his face and through his hair.

"'He's sick, don't send him, send me instead'"

"Don't start"

"No, I want answers – what would have happened if they'd bought it? If you'd been sent out alone, if-"

"You'd still be in that apartment, safe."

"Right – safe. Safe with the four armed psycho's."

"Safer than we were ten minutes ago"

"You still don't get it, do you?" His voice was raised now – he was angry, that much was obvious. And it wasn't for something Harvey was going to apologize for just yet.

"There's nothing 'to get', Mike. I was trying to keep you as safe as possible for as long as possible-"

"Jesus Christ – I'm not a kid! You're not responsible for me"

"Yes, I am."

"No, you're not – don't you think it would have been hell for me if you were thrown out? Not knowing what was happening to you, if you were okay – No, I'm not done" Now Harvey was on his feet, putting a few feet of distance between him and his associate.

"You were responsible for me back when I was just your employee – things have changed, not just with us, and I need to know you're not gonna try something like that again"

"I can't promise you that, and you know it. When I said that I wasn't trying to talk down to you, Mike. I need to know you're safe, that you're okay, and if that means putting myself at risk I will-"

"We're meant to be in this together"

"We are"

"Offering yourself as bait and getting your throat ripped out makes the 'together' kinda difficult." Harvey could only sigh; this was an argument that was going to go in circles, but neither was prepared to back down from.

"I did what I felt was necessary to keep you out of harm's way, and I'm not sorry for that. I'd find a way to get back to you"

"Save it, Harvey." Mike's voice had gone from nearly shouting to a low, controlled tone. When his lifted his face Harvey could see that he wasn't so much angry anymore as he was upset. He didn't back away when the older man stepped towards him, though he did bat his hands away when he tried reaching out to him.

"Why can't you trust me?"

"I do trust you-"

"No, you don't – not anymore. Not entirely. You played along, back in the apartment- tried convincing them you were sick. And yet you're still pissed with me about it?"

"I didn't have a choice – you backed me into a corner"

"Maybe so, but my point is that you trusted me enough to go along with it. So why is it so hard for you to do the same now?"

"Because the odds aren't in your favour any more, Harvey. This isn't some case where you can predict what the outcome will be – we were lucky to get _here _without getting our heads ripped off, and you expect me to just be okay with the idea of you being out there alone?"

"Mike-"

"Just, leave me alone for a while" With that, he turned and left the room, a door closing upstairs a minute later. He could tell this was a subject he and Mike would fall out on a lot. Both wanted the other out of harm's way, but neither wanted the other to be put in danger to ensure their own safety. He made coffee – crappy, cheap stuff – and filled two mugs with it, following the stairs up minutes later. It didn't take long to find which room Mike had claimed. When he heard the door open, Mike just looked to the side, petulantly folding his arms across his chest.

"I said I wanted to be alone." Without replying, Harvey just put his drink down on the bedside table, and went to leave once again when Mike suddenly grabbed his wrist. Mike still wasn't looking at him, but when Harvey sat on the bed, he shifted forward and pulled him into a tight hug. He was exhausted - physically, emotionally, and mentally. Neither of them were built for this life. Gradually the hug just turned into them clinging to one another, taking in each other's scents and the feel of familiar arms around them. His voice not much more than a whisper, muffled by Harvey's shoulder, Mike suddenly found it far more difficult to keep his emotions back.

"…I can't lose you. I can't, I don't know what I'd do, and…when you put yourself at risk it pisses me off…if something happened to you because of me…"

"It won't. We'll be careful, and we'll be fine…all or nothing, right?"


	15. American Psycho

Moving from an apartment to a house in theory sounded better, more secure. But in reality, it meant infected scratching at the walls and doors, trying to get to the source of any light or sounds. They were closer to street level, which meant their days had to be spent being careful to stay quiet as possible, their time being used to block up window panes with whatever they could find. By the time they'd finished, the place looked like a dolls house belonging to a very paranoid child. As soon as the sun set each evening, lights were only kept on when necessary. But, for another week and a half, they stayed out of trouble. One of the silver linings of how fast this virus seemed to act was that for the most part, food remained in cupboards and pantries – in their hast to get out of the city, many people favoured items of sentimental value over things of practicality. In this particular house, almost all the photo frames on the walls were empty; no sign of laptops, and gaps in book shelves…Mike found it sad in a way, while Harvey was thankful that this family hadn't been so forward thinking.

As he had done with one of their other shelters, Mike made a point to explore the place. The family that had lived here had money, that much was obvious – each room was spacious and beautifully decorated; even the stairwell and corridors reeked of grandeur. Going by the number of bedrooms and the condition of two of them, there were four kids, two of which were probably teenagers. An hour or so after he'd gone upstairs, Harvey decided to go after him – investigate what had him occupied.

"Mike?"

"In here" Came the echoed reply. Following the sound, Harvey found him in one of the bedrooms, sat on the floor with a pile of books either side of him.

"Catching up for book club..?"

"I got bored – care to join me?"

"Why not; it's not like we have any real work to do…"

"My thoughts exactly. Whoever lived in here had good taste in literature" Sitting on the bed behind him, Harvey let his hands trace across his shoulders and the nape of his neck.

"Define 'good taste'"

"Orwell, Fitzgerald, Ellis – did you ever read 'American Psycho'?"

"No, not recently"

"You should; it's not like we're stretched for time anymore."

"Maybe." After a pause, Harvey smiled to himself. "Or you could read it to me." Mike tilted his head back against the edge of the mattress, frowning playfully.

"You want me to read to you..?"

"Sure. But not with that." Reaching past him, he stole the book from Mike's lap, snapping it closed and tossing it onto the chest at the end of the bed.

"Ah, so – you don't want me to read, you want me to _recite._" Shifting round, Mike folded his arms on the bed. "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not a performing monkey"

"Nope, can't say I had…" dramatically dropping his head onto his arms, he sighed heavily, before lifting his face back up, and starting;

"…there is an idea…of a Patrick Bateman, some kind of abstraction, but there is no real me, only an entity, something illusory, and though I can hide my cold gaze and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable: I simply am not there_…" __With a triumphant smirk, Harvey moved back on the bed to make room for Mike as he continued his chosen passage. As he spoke, Mike urged Harvey back against the pillows, punctuating the extract with kisses down his boss' throat._

_"…_It is hard for me….to make sense…on any given level." Pressing a kiss to his lips, the next part of the quote lingered in the air for a moment longer before Mike finally settled on Harvey's chest, chin resting on one of his hands, the other absently fiddling with one of the buttons on his shirt.

"Myself is fabricated, an aberration. I am a non-contingent human being. My personality is sketchy and unformed; my heartlessness goes deep and is persistent. My conscience, my pity, my hopes disappeared a long time ago (probably at Harvard) if they ever did exist. There are no more barriers to cross. All I have in common with the uncontrollable and the insane, the vicious and the evil, all the mayhem I have caused and my utter indifference toward it, I have now surpassed. I still, though, hold on to one single bleak truth: no one is safe, nothing is redeemed. Yet I am blameless. Each model of human behaviour must be assumed to have some validity. Is evil something you are? Or is it something you do? My pain is constant and sharp and I do not hope for a better world for anyone…."

To Harvey, the novelty of Mike's memory would never wear off. Under the lazily styled mess of hair and behind wide, boyish blue eyes was a mind that he could never wrap his own around. As he spoke, Harvey pried Mike's finger tips away from the button on his shirt, taking his turn to amuse his hands. With a soft smile, the associate continued, allowing his hand to be opened and fingers spread and folded.

"…In fact, I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no one to escape. But even after admitting this—and I have countless times, in just about every act I've committed—and coming face-to-face with these truths, there is no catharsis. I gain no deeper knowledge about myself; no new understanding can be extracted from my telling. There has been no reason for me to tell you any of this. This confession has meant-"

The sound of crashing downstairs snapped them both out of the moment, an anxious glance shared between them. Sitting up slowly their voices dropped to whispers.

"Kitchen..?"

"No, I did those windows a few hours ago." Backtracking through the past half hour, Harvey cursed under his breath.

"What's wrong?"

"The light – I left it on when I came up here to check on you"

"Shit…How did they get in?"

"I don't know - Look, stay here, find somewhere to hide" Frowning, Mike caught Harvey's arm as he headed for the door, pulling him back.

"No, _we _need to hide-"

"Mike. Not now – get yourself out of sight"

"Didn't you listen to anything I said to you before? _Any _of it?" A series of loud screeches from the floor below reminded them of why their age old argument couldn't afford to surface again.

"You keep asking me to trust you, Harvey. Now you have to trust me for once." If they had more time, Harvey would have told him that he always had done – that it wasn't a matter of trust issues. But instead, he just gave a hesitant nod, and without another word, they both went about finding the improvised weapons they'd placed in each room – by now they'd be idiots to not prepare at least that much. While they had found firearms in the master bedroom, neither of them had any experience handling a gun, and as Mike had put it in his best infomercial voice; 'A weapon is only as effective as the person who wields it'.


	16. Red sky in the morning

If the infected could articulate more than unearthly screams, the first thing they would likely describe would be just how deafening silence can be. When there are no cars, no wailing children and shouting adults, those who are healthy would comment on how quiet everything was. But to the sick, every small noise was like a fog horn. A plate dropping became a grenade, and feet hitting the pavement resembled blocks of lead hitting the sidewalk. Gunshots may as well have been grenades.

They may well have then gone on to tell you how, after a brief, uncomfortable death, they woke up soon after as though awaking from a jet lag induced nap. You feel heavy and lethargic, fatigue weighing on your limbs like a dead-weight. But after a few hours of your lungs learning to work again, you start to come around; you learn to run again, and when you do run it's as though that's the only thing you were ever created to do. You're fast, as though your legs aren't your own, and as you gather speed and your muscles are enriched with oxygen, you feel as like you can go on running until you run out of pavements to chase.

Maybe they would mention the burning fever that lingered after death, the awful searing heat that refused to pierce the skin. The intense hunger that was never quite satisfied or the simple association between lights and life. In reality this was due to diminished eye sight – once the sun set their hearing was their greatest strength. The brain acted like it had been restored to factory settings; light means life. Life means food, and speed meant catching food. And as of tonight, food was somewhere inside this building, regardless of whether or not it walked on two legs or four. That was no longer a concern with this particular hunger. The first room was barely lit, but just a little further away was the source of the yellowy-white glow. Fists pounded through glass and soon the barricade that was in place to keep them at bay fell, piece by piece. All that mattered was that light, and who would hopefully be in the room soaking it up.

There was no one – there were groans to put across frustration, but there wasn't much that could be done but wait or look around this new area. Items were thrown and things smashed to create more noise – a rudimentary tactic in order to tell other infected 'there is food here' – or in this case, 'most likely'. Luckily for the sickened members of the city, most survivors weren't smart enough to stay put, but rather took the sounds of aggression as signals to try and escape – often hindering themselves in the process. The next minutes only brought about two more infected and no sources of food – until a creak on the stairwell snapped all three heads round to the corridor doorway. Silence fell – the quiet before the storm – before the first move was made.

A hockey stick was cracked round the back of the head of the redheaded woman, who needed another flew blows to the head before she stayed down. The only problem with beating something that still bleeds is the inevitable spurt and spatter motions as the skull craters and caves. The last two went down almost pitifully easily, though when in this state, pain wasn't much of an issue; you could hear your bones breaking and your teeth flying out of your mouth open impact, but no pain ensued. Death is one of the better anaesthetics, it's been said.

"Is that it? Was that all of them?"

"I don't know – check around the corner, I'll find where they came in" While Mike searched for other infected, Harvey wiped the back of his face, blinking what he assumed was sweat out of his eyes. His hand came back bloody, but it went unnoticed, his attention on the broken barricade for the time being.

"Dim the light and help me – we need to do this and then get the hell back upstairs". With another look around, Mike jogged into the other room to assist his companion, the barrier not as strong as before, but it'd last the night. Once they were finished they killed the lights completely and went back up to the bedroom Mike had been 'reading' in. hoisting the duvet they'd taken from another room up and over the curtain pole, soon it was safe enough to put the side lamp on as they settled back onto the bed.

"You're pretty good with that"

"With..? Oh, the- It's not rocket science, it's just a hockey stick"

"Learn to take a compliment. Now, where were we?"

"'Nothing'"

"What..?"

"That was the final word of the sentence I was reciting before we got invaded. There, finished." His cheeky smirk was rewarded with a playful push as Mike tried to resume his previous position between Harvey's legs and across his chest.

"Alright, smart-ass. Choose another book."

"You pick –I chose 'American Psycho'"

"Okay…'the road'"

"You're kidding."

"Is this the face of someone who's joking. That's my choice – have at it" Mike let out the moan of a student told to stayed two hours after class, but finally, he made himself comfortable, scratched his nails through his hair with a sigh, and began;

"When he woke in the woods in the dark and the cold of the night he'd reach out to touch the child sleeping beside him. Nights dark beyond darkness and the days more gray each one than what had gone before. Like the onset of some cold glaucoma dimming away the world. His hand rose and fell softly with each precious breath…" When he felt fingers gently rubbing through his hair and the back of his neck, Mike nuzzled the nearest palm and let his eyes close again.

"Like pilgrims in a fable swallowed up and lost among the inward parts of some granitic beast. Deep stone flues where the water dripped and sang. Tolling in the silence the minutes of the earth and the hours and the days of it and the years without cease. Until they stood in a great stone room where lay a black and ancient lake." One hand had to come back up to his eye, rubbing away an eyelash or some dust, though if Mike had been looking at him at that time, he would have seen how dull his irises had become, sclera slowly staining yellow and blood shot.

"And on the far shore a creature that raised its dripping mouth from the rimstone pool and stared into the light with eyes dead white and sightless as the eggs of spiders…"


	17. Skyfall

It didn't escape Mike's notice; none of it did after a while. At first, he was content just laying with him, tracing gentle shapes and circles into the back of Harvey's hand as he continued to recite his chosen book. Gradually though, Harvey's breathing seemed to quicken, his heart rate climbing with unhealthy speed. He didn't need to ask how he was feeling to know what had happened; Harvey's skin slowly but surely went from warm to burning under his touch.

That didn't make it any easier.

When he tried to sit up, Harvey's free hand cupped the back of Mike's neck gently, keeping him from doing so.

"Don't stop." That voice belonged to his boss, but it was barely strung together by the familiar tone. Harvey was trying to keep himself conscious, coherent enough to hopefully keep Mike from worrying. But he hadn't hired Mike for his looks; he was intelligent enough to know something wasn't wrong. Harvey just didn't want it to be real. Hesitantly, Mike settled back down, drawing Harvey's hand to him as he continued, voice becoming more and more strained as he spoke.

"He was a long time going to sleep. After a while he turned and looked at the man. His face in the small light streaked with black from the rain like some old world thespian. Can I ask you something? He said…Yes. Of course. Are we going to die? Sometime. Not now."

"Mike…"

"And we're still going south. Yes. So we'll be warm-"

"Mike…" Harvey repeated his name softly, this time allowing him to sit up. Only he didn't; whereas at first he'd needed to clarify if his fears, now he wanted anything but – it was as if seeing Harvey infected meant it was set in stone, and ignoring the fact would allow it to be rewritten.

"And then later in the darkness: Can I ask you something? Yes. Of course you can. What would you do if I died?..If you died I would want to die too - So you could be with me? Yes. So I could be with you…Okay."

"…I'm sorry. Should have been more careful"

"Shut up. I'm serious, just…just, don't say anything." His voice was thick with emotion, and the tell tale tremble seconds later told his partner that his ability to hold it all back was rapidly disappearing. It was getting hard for him to focus, the patterned ceiling swimming in distorted shapes in front of his eyes. They only flickered closed for a few seconds, the feeling of cool hands on either side of his face and the sensation of lips urging his own apart fooling him into thinking this was any other situation – that that simple sign of love didn't have drastically different consequences now. But by the time he'd clicked what Mike was doing, it was too late. Regardless he still pushed him away, shifting himself up as his hand came to his mouth as though he could erase the last thirty seconds. Mike turned away, not even trying to hold his sobs back anymore. Elbows resting on his knees, his face was buried in his hands, and for that moment he looked like a wounded child – not a man who had just willingly infected himself.

His head was spinning and he could taste blood, sweat seemingly oozing from every pore as though he were sat in a sauna. Everything ached; breathing now that he was sat upright had gone from uncomfortable to painful, but he ignored it as best he could in order to reach out to Mike. By now his voice had lost most of it usual authority; he'd blame the sickness, when it fact it was nothing more than a heavy wave of emotion crashing through him. Seeing Mike like this, knowing he was going to die and now knowing that Mike wouldn't be far behind.

"What did you do…Mike, why would you do that…" Forcing a few deep breaths through him, Mike didn't bother to wipe his face as he turned a distressed, accusing set of eyes on the man at the headboard.

"That's all you're going ask? Now? Jesus Christ Harvey, you know why"

"If I knew, I wouldn't be asking"

"Then _think – _we've still got an hour or two…might as well-" Harvey grabbed at his hand like the homeless at a dollar bill, his grip tenuous at best, but still enough to draw Mike back to him without another word. Despite slight protestations of discomfort, Harvey welcomed the younger man to him, it taking everything he had not to let himself slip any more, if only for Mike's sake. Voice muffled by Harvey's collar and infused with a kind of raw sorrow very rarely seen up close, when Mike finally spoke up Harvey did his best to listen through the sound of his heart thudding in his ears.

"…All or nothing, right..? You go, I go…"

"That was my career –t his…this is your life, Mike…what were you thinking…" Pulling away just enough to press forehead to forehead, Mike finally opened his eyes and looked into Harvey's. The whites of his eyes were completely discoloured now, handsome brown now dulled down to muddy, glassy pools. A hand settled on the back of his neck, fingers pushing across the scalp and through strands of dirty-blonde hair.

"What were you thinking"

"There was a gun in the room, and…I took my option"

"You're meant to make the choice that means you come out on top…I thought I taught you that pretty well…"

"No point in being on top if you're not there with me." That forced a small, sad smile across both faces, though a tear of blood escaping down Harvey's cheek shook Mike out of the tiny daydream they'd just started to build. Maybe if they made jokes and talked like always…maybe he'd open his eyes and they'd be in Pearson Hardman again. Maybe Donna would walk in with a witty comeback to Harvey telling her to knock, or Jessica letting herself in to berate him for disobeying her. For any one of these scenarios, Mike would give anything at that moment. Maybe as Harvey lay back against the pillows as Mike got up to turn the lock on the door, and they spent the next three hours alternating between soft speech and fitful sleep, this entire circumstance would turn out be a horrific dream. As their grips on one another gradually weakened and they stopped trying to stem the steady rivers of blood from their noses and eyes, eventually, both men were still.

But you always wake up. And the first thing Mike registered as yellowed, glazed eyes fluttered back into animation was just how _loud _silence really can be.


End file.
